To Explore Characters through Music
by Ireina Kurotsuki
Summary: They know, perhaps, that he watches them. Always watches, and laughs when they fight with a childlike joy on his face. They do not know that more often than they realise he is the one to plant the seeds of dissent. Drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia- it is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya, not myself. This is merely a work of fanfiction, and as such I claim none of the characters. I also do not own any music/lyrics quoted herein, they are owned by the artists that wrote/sing them.

**Warnings:** Implied and stated male/male relationships. Implied dysfunctional relationship.

**Flames shall be extinguished with great force because it is bush-fire season and I hate bush-fires. Many Australians do.**

This will be a series of drabbles, all based off songs. I'll post the parts of the lyrics that made me decide on a particular pairing with each. All are Hetalia, and there are several crack-pairings. I will not take requests for songs/pairings. This is for my own enjoyment and to keep my hand in at writing whilst I try and overcome writers block. There are two drabbles here because one was so small it really wasn't worth putting it seperately. is hating my spacing/breaks, so I've had to use the horrid grey ones they give you to space this as I prefer. Apologies for that.

Please enjoy.

-Ireina

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All You Wanted- Michelle Branch. Hinted Germania/Rome

* * *

_I wanted to be like you, I wanted everything_

_So I tried to be like you, and I got swept away._

How could he have missed it? His charge, his friend, his only ally. Since childhood, he'd wanted to be like the other boy- powerful, graceful and at ease with people.

He'd tried for so long to be like him- _so long_. But he and his people were not cut out to be a great empire- were not cut out to move with the discipline of the legions. And each time his grasps for power failed.

Then he'd paid his friend an unexpected visit.

His head was in his hands, and those beautiful, expressive eyes were weeping.

"No-one, not _one_ person likes _me_." he murmured, rubbing at his eyes defiantly as he stood and went over to the other man, poking his chest. "They always want _Rome_, _Rome, Rome_. No-one wants Luthando." he ranted. "They see the empire, the great nation. Never _me_." A fist pounded on his chest. "I have no friends, not a _one_. They'd all stab me as soon as look at me! If I didn't have power, they'd want nothing to do with me! Celt, Greece, Egypt! All of them would kill me if the opportunity presented!" His face darkened. "My own people are too busy squabbling over leadership to care they're tearing me apart!"

Germania lifted a hand and caught the smaller man's chin between his forefinger and thumb.

"My people would kill you with no hesitation if they knew what you are." the blond said frankly. "Do you think, if I didn't at least _like_ you, I'd be here at all? Risking myself?" He snorted and released his grip. "Get a hold of yourself and stop pitying yourself." he scolded. Looking aslant at the darker-skinned man, he added nonchalantly; "If you want, we could go north. Leave the mortals to their own devices?"

Rome perked up immediately, the only hint of his former despair in the form of slightly reddened skin around his eyes and a slight puffiness. "A holiday! Just what I need! You always know how to cheer me up, friend!~" He grinned sunnily, clapping a hand on Germania's shoulder.

"Yes. A holiday." Germania echoed, hiding disappointment. That wasn't what he'd meant. Not at all.

* * *

_If you want to, I can save you, I can take you away from here._

_So lonely inside, so busy out there, and all you wanted was somebody who cares._

_

* * *

_

Hot 'N Cold- A Smile from the Trenches.

This relationship was destructive- he knew it, and he knew that _he _knew it. But they kept circling one another, circling and circling, first fighting so viciously they drew blood, the next minute tearing each other's clothes off like any moment would be their last.

He was like a drug, and it was addicting. His anger was so very _vibrant_, and it lit up his face, his normally icy cold façade melting to a fire that _aroused_ him so very much, the fact that _he _was the one to make the stoic blond loose his cool- him and no-one else. Only _he_ could affect Germania so.

And Rome loved it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia- it is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya, not myself. This is merely a work of fanfiction, and as such I claim none of the characters. I also do not own any music/lyrics quoted herein, they are owned by the artists that wrote/sing them.

**Warnings:** Mentions of the holocaust. Implied and stated male/male relationships. Implied het.

**Flames shall be extinguished with great force because it is bush-fire season and I hate bush-fires. Many Australians do.**

****These drabbles include implied Germania/Rome, stated Celt/Germania and implied Celt/Germania/Rome in addition to what could be interpreted as Germerica.

One of the two drabbles I've posted today involve a character invented by one of my friends to embody the Celtic people- Aveta. Kudos to Yeyana for inventing such a kick-ass character. Also, I should explain that my head-canon is that Germania can't disobey a direct order from the chieftain among the tribes who holds the most power; (his boss) In my headcanon the only reason he murdered Rome was because it was a direct order- and he couldn't disobey. Another theory I consider entirely plausible is that he passed this to one of his sons- Germany. It would explain the horrors of the Second World War, yet keep Germany in-character as seen in canon.

-Ireina

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Leave out All The Rest- Linkin Park.

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'_I'm strong on the surface, not all the way though.'_

_

* * *

_

_He stood, looking down at his body, watching as the armoured men clamoured around the bloodied and broken body lying lifeless on the ground. He watched as the blond-haired, blue-eyed man who'd taken his life flew across rooftops, and irrationally he hoped the man would escape. His gold eyes stared longingly at the man's fleeing back._

_

* * *

_

A loud yell pierced the eerie early morning silence as a tall man flew up, face gaunt and haunted, cheeks hollow and his blue eyes clouded and wide, his blond hair falling in tangles around his face. He sprung from the bed, running out, _out_, throwing open a window to take deep breaths of the air outside. A hand covered half his face and he stared unseeingly out across the rooftops, as silent sobs racked his form.

'_Death would be a kindness I do not deserve.'_ he thought despairingly to himself.

Sunbrowned arms slid around his waist, and a light kiss was pressed into his shoulder. "Another nightmare?" a gruff, feminine voice asked, not un-kindly. "Thought y'were drinkin' to _stop_ the blasted things?"

"They never stop, Aveta." his voice was hollow, and he stood unmoving within the circle of the tiny woman's surprisingly strong arms. "Ever since…"

"Come back t' bed. I'm still drunk enou' that I'll forget comfortin' ye in the mornin'." she offered, pressing against his unclothed back with an equally unclothed body.

He turned in her grip and looked down into her green eyes and gently stroked a lock of wild brown hair from her face. He closed his eyes, succumbing briefly to the pain. He knew she'd pretend she didn't see the pain and self-hatred on his face in the morning.

"I miss him too. 'F that helps." she offered gruffly.

"You didn't kill him." Germania whispered, looking at her in despair, clinging to her and burying his face in her hair. Then, and only then did he allow tears to slip.

* * *

'_When my time comes forget the wrong that I've done…'_

_

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_

I Need a Hero- Frou Frou.

* * *

The age of heroes had passed. Their time was _gone_. And yet… and yet… This young nation (so young!) who boldly and proudly proclaimed he was a hero; he stirred something in him. Something he'd thought long dormant, if not dead deep within.

"Why do you help me?" he demanded. "You don't have to. You could let me die completely. Let my people die out completely." He scowled. "Especially after what my boss made… made _us_ do." he ground out from between gritted teeth. "It is only what I deserve."

After what Russia had found in Auschwitz he had been violently sick. He'd known his boss was having Gilbert and the SS do horrible things- he'd _felt_ all the deaths, but the horrors that had happened in that place… Even for him, they were terrible.

The bright blue eyes, so familiar (because eyes of a similar colour shone at him from the mirror every morning as he shaved) behind glasses that glinted in the light smiled softly at him. A hand reached out, not gloved like his own but bared to the small amount of dusk light in the room, reached out and lightly, tentatively, skimmed his jaw. "Because I'm a _hero_." the younger nation said seriously. "And I had to save _your_ people from your boss too, remember? He killed lots of _your_ people too. And a hero doesn't neglect people after he's saved them. Not a _real _one anyway." He made to lift his hand away, but Germany caught that hand and clutched it tightly in both of his own, and he solemnly stared at the blond man before him, unable to prevent the thought that flitted through his mind that wouldn't his boss- his _old boss_- have just _loved _this man if he hadn't known he was the embodiment of the United States.

"_Thank you_." he said simply, finally able to let his stoic mask fall.

It was then that it hit him, _really_ hit him. It was finally _over_. No more would he feel the burning and stabbing that signified his people dying in their hundreds _each day_.

He didn't bother to try and stop the tears that began to slip from the corners of his eyes.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed these drabbles- look forward to some Prussia and Germany as well as a drabble or two of Russia in the next update.

-Ireina.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia- it is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya, not myself. This is merely a work of fanfiction, and as such I claim none of the characters. I also do not own any music/lyrics quoted herein, they are owned by the artists that wrote/sing them.

**Warnings:** Mentions of the Second World War. Russia's madness.

**Flames shall be extinguished with great force because it is bush-fire season and I hate bush-fires. Many Australians do.**

The drabbles in this chapter include Prussia/Germany and Russia. The Prussia/Germany could be slashed if you squint. And tilt your head sideways. Not warning for that because it isn't intended to be that way.

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Your Guardian Angel- The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Prussia/Germany

* * *

Funny. He'd never wanted kids. Never wanted the whole domestic-bliss thing.

Then he'd found the blond kid lying half-dead on the battlefield and well, he couldn't just let the kid _die_. He picked up the little boy and fought his way back from the front line, heedless of anything but that _they were in between him and treatment for the boy_.

The kid healed and grew a bit. He taught the boy, cleaned him and nurtured him. His friends made fun of him, and how domesticated he'd become, running his life around the small boy.

"I haven't fuckin' gone _soft_, Bonnefoy." he'd snarled at the blond man in question before slamming the door in his face. "Haven't ya got some kid of your own to fight England over anyway?" he'd yelled angrily through the door before going up to the boy's chambers, suddenly needing the boy's quiet, calm presence to settle his rage. Slamming the door behind him he stomped over to the young boy. Suddenly he smiled and ruffled the boy's hair lightly.

"Don't do that, brother." the child rebuked him, turning the page of the book he was reading as though the older male hadn't just stormed up the stairs and burst into his room unannounced.

More time passed, and though he stayed the same, the boy flew through the stages of growth until he was a young man, taller than he himself.

Leaders came and went until a certain one ascended. This man was not _his_ boss, but when a summons came to the house his little one inhabited, it was _he_ who intercepted and answered the summons.

"Why are you here? I called for _Deutschland._" The man said abruptly. "You are not he."

"I am his brother. I will take the appointment." He said calmly, not at all intimidated by the dark-haired man's commanding aura. He'd seen better. A dark brow raised amusedly. "You would take the honoured position I would have your brother take? Full charge of the final solution that will cleanse the taint?"

Distaste for the man before him rose within him, along with his bile.

"Ja. On one condition. Ludwig will not hear that this position was meant for him." he warned.

The other man's lip curved. "Of course not." he said courteously.

"Good." With that, the white-haired man spun on his heel and strode from the room.

Prussia would rather the blood to come be on _his_ hands. He would protect West at _all costs_.

* * *

Away from Me- Evanescence

_I hold my breath as this life starts to take its toll._

_I hide behind my smile as this perfect plan unfolds._

_

* * *

_

It was a well-known fact that behind that habitual smile that always seemed to linger on the tall nation's face lurked the shadows of madness.

Perhaps, what they do not know, is the _extent_ of this madness, this madness that drives him to orchestrate plans within plans, the seeds of which were planted under the Golden Horde, and bloomed when as a mere child by the reckoning of their kind, he murdered the Mongol Empire and thrust his remnants from his territory.

They know, perhaps, that he watches them. Always watches, and laughs when they fight with a childlike joy on his face. They do not know that more often than they realise he is the one to plant the seeds of dissent.

It is in the form of a passing remark here, an innocent question there, that he manipulates them, making countries dance to his will, for his amusement.

Even his sister's insanity is manipulated, (to a point, after all, there is only so much one can do with insanity) to make himself seem less threatening, and more amusing. After all, a man afraid of his littlest sister cannot be all _that _big of a threat can he?

He most certainly _can_, and as he waits and watches their politicking, he laughs inside, and smiles his eerie, polite smile.

And he waits for his long-laid plans to bear fruit.

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I hope you enjoyed!

-Ireina


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